The Japanese novels, by their nature, in the eyes of a Westerner are a bit strange. All the cultural background that is behind each line is completely different from that which accompanies the books that we usually read.
The Restaurant of Love Regained shows this feeling more alive than ever before.
Written in a style so light and flowing, similar to a mountain stream coming down from the mountain top, settling in a slow and placid flow, then fast and rapid towards the end. A perfect style for describing many scenes full of emotions.
The plot, in contrast, seems at times intentionally exaggerated and not credible, with some turning points decidedly forced to the point of being out of place. Despite this, it is clear that the book itself was not written because the reader had in front of them a coherent and compelling storyline, but rather a message hidden by the author.
I do not know what it was, and yet, this book has left me in a very pleasant feeling of peace that I hope will give to you.
Place your feet firmly on the ground and let yourself breathe.
Broken hearted Rinko stoically returns to the isolated village that holds long buried memories of a fractured relationship with her mother. With internalised grief rendering her unable to speak, Rinko channels her energies into opening a unique restaurant, and gradually finds empowerment through the healing power of food.
The Restaurant of Love Regained is essentially a cook book seasoned with a bit of fiction. Nevertheless, charmingly optimistic characters and some shocking revelations are delicacies that complement the mouth-watering recipes. Clunky translation rendering this quirky novel a starter rather than a main, but the overall reader experience is pleasant and appetising.